


how could i explain myself

by sunsetveins



Series: i think you can tell [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low, Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Drug Use, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Overdosing, Reactions to Death, Suicide, Timeline What Timeline, and there's no set time for this, but it's kind of one sided and there's a reference to Dallon/Brendon/Ryan kinda, i didn't see a point in tagging Dallon/Brendon, im not sure when this is, some of which will be in bonus chapters that i post later, the sarah/brendon shit is complicated, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetveins/pseuds/sunsetveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's beautiful, but she isn't Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a lyric scene fic for the lyric "how could i explain myself" from a song by Jon Walker and then it morphed into this. magic.

"how could I explain myself" 

 

Alex doesn't realize what he's doing until he's drinking wine on his couch while his phone buzzes repeatedly on the table beside of him. He doesn't realize what he's done until he's already done it.

She's beautiful. He's said it a million times and he'd still say it a million more. Lisa is beautiful. She's kind and smart, sweet when she shouldn't be and never cruel. She smiles with her entire face and her lips - oh god, her lips - always taste like cherry. She's beautiful.

She's beautiful, but she isn't Jack.

He's asked her to marry him. She's said yes. She isn't Jack. She'll never, ever be Jack. For some reason, it takes the onslaught of "congratulations, guys, we're so happy for you" from all of Alex's friends and fans for him to realize this. 

She's his biggest lie. She has been from the very beginning. He's not quite sure when he forgot that he wasn't actually in love with her, that this wasn't actually real. 

There are quite a few possibilities, now that he's thinking about it. He remembers thinking about being so, so in love with her when he bought her that red dress and she nearly cried because of it. He remembers singing her songs late at night, songs meant for someone who wasn't her. He remembers her always, always being there. He remembers her moving in, changing little things that should've bothered him but didn't. He remembers her making breakfast and brushing dogs and taking pictures of him with fans. He remembers falling in love with her, falling like he's never fallen before, but only because it wasn't falling in love. It had never actually been falling in love.

He'd fallen in love with what she represented. He'd fallen in love with what she was doing. Not with her, never with her. He was in love with how domestic it all was.

There were signs, signs he should've seen. There are memories of things he should've – could’ve – caught on to. 

He remembers telling Zack that Lisa was the one – and when he really focuses on that memory he can also remember how white Zack's face had gone, how for a moment he seemed as if he was watching a car crash. He can remember occasions when he'd talk to Brendon and he'd tell him all about how in love he was, and Brendon would just stare at him with this look in his eyes that now, when Alex is thinking somewhat clearly, he can recognize as pity, as utter heartbreak, as understanding. 

Vic, who was always so open and gentle and honest about everything, would press his mouth into a thin line every single time when Alex said her name. Alex would ask and Vic would never say a word, which should've meant something. 

Matt would call sometimes, and when he did Alex would ramble on for hours. He missed him, missed the levelness that his presence provided. He'd bring up Lisa, would just barely begin her name, and then Matt would shut him down. He'd immediately start talking about Jack, asking about his drinking and wondering if he'd met someone yet. Alex never questioned it, because Jack made everything in Alex's brain melt away.

There were a million things Alex should've caught, but he didn't. He didn't catch on to anything and now, now he's here and Lisa is wearing an engagement ring and that same red dress and what has he done?

He doesn't openly show his sudden panic. That would be bad and he'd worry her. He doesn't want to worry her. Instead, he swallows the wine and picks up his phone.

He doesn't read the tweets, because the real messages will be sent through text where the world can't see it.

brendon: call me if you feel like you need a drink

matt: stop being thick and take it back

zack: i love you, brother 

vic: sometimes we fall in love with people because we think that it's right. i promise, she isn't what's right. be smart.

cass: don't rush into this

michael: i'm happy for you

michael: but please don't do this

jack: can you come and get me

Jack. Jack needs him. He's fucked up and Jack needs him. 

"I've got to go somewhere. I'll be right back." 

Lisa doesn't say anything in reply as Alex rushes from the couch and to the door. Alex didn't hear her if she did, anyway.

Jack hadn't said where he was, but Alex knew. He knew where Jack always went when something hurt him and he didn't want to deal with it. 

It wasn't the most ideal place, but somehow Jack always found his way to Thames Street.

He sat on this bench and he drank until Alex got there, because Alex always got there eventually. Sometimes he'd have his guitar, other times he'd just being sitting there with red eyes and a tight grip on the neck of a bottle. However he found him, he always found him there.

It wasn't that far away, but Alex still drove. He called Brendon while he went.

"Alex," Brendon says, voice a little pained. "I was expecting for this call to come later."

"I'm on my way to pick up Jack. I figured now was the best time."

"Oh. Oh, I see." 

Alex swallows. "Bren, what do I do?"

"I'm still trying to figure that one out myself, dude. I don't know. Break up with her? Marry her? Drink, smoke, and hope it all works itself out?" 

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Alex whispers. 

"Yeah, well. You either hurt them or you hurt yourself. Pick your poison."

"And if my poison is him?" 

"Then you've made the right choice."

With that, the line goes dead. Brendon does that a lot. It's probably because he hates saying goodbye.

-

jack: the world is all a little red, isn't it

jack: like sometimes the sky is a little red

jack: and my drink is a little red

jack: and the stars are a little red

jack: even my hands

jack: they're red too

jack: why is everything red alex

alex: jack where are you

jack: thames street 

jack: be careful because the road is looking a little slick

jack: the red is everywhere 

alex: jack seriously where are you

jack: thames street alex i told you this 

alex: jack i'm at thames street

jack: oh 

Okay. Okay, so Jack isn't where he's supposed to be. He thinks that he's where he's supposed to be, but he isn't there. So that only means one thing.

He's at someone's house. Not his own, because he wouldn't have texted Alex if he was there. So it's Rian or Zack, but probably not Rian because Cass is in town. 

So Zack's, then. Okay. 

-

Zack's house isn't that far from where Alex was, but it takes him over thirty minutes to get there because Jack keeps texting him and Alex refuses to drive and text at the same time. When he does get there, though, Zack is waiting on the steps.

"He's not in the best shape," Zack says, "but I assume you already know that."

Alex nods, because he does know. 

"I can't tell you what to do, brother. Just make sure you come out of this happy, okay?" 

"I'll try," Alex responds as he makes his way past Zack. 

The place smells more like alcohol than a bar. There's a broken bottle sitting in the corner of Zack's kitchen and some kind of sticky substance on the floor that makes Alex's shoes squeak. Jack is nowhere to be found, so Alex tries the upstairs.

He finds him in the bathroom. He's surrounded by red liquid and holding onto half of a bottle of some kind of vodka mix if Alex was just guessing by the smell. There are small cuts on his hands, probably made from the half broken neck of the bottle. His lips are bleeding and his phone is glowing on his thigh. The floor, where he's sprawled, is definitely going to be stained once all of this is over.

"Jack," Alex breathes. Jack looks up at him, raising his broken bottle to him in greeting. More red liquid spills from it.

"Alex!" Jack slurs, waving the bottle a bit. "Come to save me?"

"Always, Jacky," Alex says, stepping into the bathroom cautiously. He finds a place that isn't too red and looks to be free of broken glass and sits down. 

"Look, Jack, I'm really sorry-"

"Sorry?" Jack scoffs. "Why're you sorry? Being sorry is stupid. I'm sorry." 

"You aren't stupid, Jacky."

"I am. I'm as stupid as they come. Sooooo stupid. So stupid that I fell in love with you." 

There's an almost silence - almost because Jack giggles and sways and more liquid splashes onto the floor. Alex doesn't know how to explain himself.

"Jack, I love you."

"No," Jack says, a hard look coming across his face. "No, you love her. Don't say shit like that to me, Gaskarth. I may be easy, but I'm not drunk."

Alex can't help it. He laughs. 

"You mean you may be drunk, but you aren't easy?" Alex asks with a smile.

Jack frowns. "That's what I said."

"Sure, Jacky."

Jack stares at him. For a moment, it's like he's sober and will actually be able to remember this in the morning. It's not true - that's driven home when he smiles and starts singing a song by this girl named Halsey that he's gotten really into lately - but Alex almost kisses him anyway.

"You aren't going to remember this in the morning, Jack, but I do love you. I shouldn't have let this get this far. I don't love her like I should. It isn't fair to her, to me, and especially not to you. I'll make this right. I promise."

Jack blinks slowly, a smile forming on his face. He goes to say something, and then a mumble comes out right before his eyes fall shut and he slumps over.

Alex sighs. It isn't his exact expectation, but he knew that would be his luck.

He doesn't have a plan. He's going to have to explain himself to everyone - to Lisa - at some point. But, for now, he gets up and somehow lifts Jack from the ground. There's a guest bedroom and Alex will leave him there before he'll leave him on the bathroom floor.

"Goodnight, Jacky," Alex says quietly. He leaves the room. 

Jack's phone blinks from where it lays on the floor in the bathroom. It casts a glow onto the orange pill bottle hidden slightly behind the toilet, turned over with the cap somewhere beside of it.

jack: i'm sorry alex i didn't mean to


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler marries Jenna on a Saturday.

Tyler marries Jenna on a Saturday. Everything feels clean and new, bright where the usual darkness of life should be. She's smiling and the room is white and Tyler has never been this happy in his entire life.

The next day is Sunday, but for some reason that isn't as terrifying as it usually is. Not when today is Saturday and Jenna is a Joseph and the sun is shining just for them.

He's sure, somehow, that nothing could ever ruin this for him. Nothing could sap the joy from this day, from this moment, from this event. Absolutely nothing.

Of course, that's when everything takes a dramatic turn for the worst.

“Oh my god,” Josh exclaims, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Tyler glances over at him from where he’s stood with Jenna. Josh’s eyes are wet and his face is incredibly white. He appears absolutely horrified.

“Josh?” 

“Are you fucking with me? Please, Zack, tell me you’re fucking with me right now. Please.”

“Josh,” Tyler says loudly, stepping away from Jenna. “Josh, what’s wrong?”

Josh runs a hand through his hair and slumps into the chair nearest to him. His face is heart wrenching. 

“Please, Zack,” he pleads, pressing the phone in his hand impossibly closer to his ear. 

“Joshua Dun,” Tyler demands, “what is wrong?”

There’s a moment where all Tyler can hear is a murmuring coming from Josh’s phone, and then a loud thump as that same phone hits the ground. Josh buries his face in his hands for just a second before he stands abruptly and kicks his chair over.

“Fuck!” he yells. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Josh, tell me what’s going on. Please?” 

It’s like Josh has suddenly been hit in the face with a bucket of ice water. He stills and stares directly into Tyler’s eyes for a long moment before he says the one sentence that absolutely could ruin everything about Tyler’s perfect day.

“Jack committed suicide last night.” 

-

There’s little argument about canceling the rest of the wedding festivities. Tyler and Josh are gone before the cake is even rolled out of the venue. It’s not even really a question if they’re going to go and be with Alex for a few days. 

It’s nearly midnight when they arrive in Baltimore. The lights are still on when they pull into Alex’s driveway. There’s muffled sounds of screaming coming from the house, the voice mostly female. Tyler doesn’t waste any time at all barging into the house.

The scene is awful. There are bags at the door and what looks to be glass from a vase scattered on the floor. Lisa is standing in the doorway to the living room, red in the face and screaming at the top of her lungs. On the couch through that doorway sits Alex, who looks like he hasn’t slept in years and is honestly just done with everything going on at the moment. 

Seeing this going on, Tyler gets very angry. So angry, in fact, that he screams for Lisa to shut up and leave if that’s what she was planning to do. 

Lisa stares at him with wide eyes. Her hands are balled into fists and her chest is heaving. She’s startled and angry, her face red and her mouth set in a firm line. She doesn’t say a word as she spins and stomps from her position in the doorway. She nearly bumps into Josh on her way out, the wheels of her bags on the hardwood being the only sound of her departure other than her loud stomps. 

“She okay?” Josh asks. Tyler isn’t sure if Josh was genuinely curious or just trying to lighten the mood, but an annoyed look comes across his face anyway. Josh raises his hands in mock surrender. 

Alex, who had been otherwise silent since their arrival, looks to them in slight wonder. 

“What are you doing here?”

“We heard the news and came right away. We couldn’t not be here for you, man,” Josh answers with a slight tilt of his lips. 

“I thought today was your wedding day, Ty?” Alex looks to Tyler, a look of deep concern in his eyes. It breaks his heart.

“It was,” Tyler says, “but Jenna gets it. It’s okay. He was my friend and so are you. I need to be here right now. She knows, she understands.”

Alex looks down at his knees and his fingers tap against his thighs. It isn’t until he looks straight ahead and blinks a couple of times that Tyler realizes he’s trying not to cry.

Josh and Tyler automatically go to sit beside of him. Tyler sits his hand on top of one of Alex’s and says in a soft voice, “It’s okay to cry.”

He breaks. If there has ever been a complete shattering of a person, Tyler witnesses it right then and there. Alex’s body seems to shudder and his legs bounce, then he’s folding in on himself and sobbing loudly. A strangled noise bullies its way out of his throat and his fingernails dig into his thighs, causing the tips of his fingers to go white with the pressure. He nearly screams with every cry. His feet bang against the floor every time that he makes a noise, like he’s physically trying to punish himself for doing so. It’s almost as if he’s angry with himself for falling apart so completely, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

Tyler doesn’t know what to do, so he looks to Josh. 

Josh seems broken. Not like Alex – not shattered and agonized and devastated. He seems broken in a way that’s almost like an ache. His eyes look so unbearably sad, like he’s just seen a kid with no parents crying on the sidewalk. His mouth is trembling, and for a second Tyler thinks he might start crying too. 

Josh doesn’t cry, though. Tyler can’t remember a time that he’s seen Josh truly cry, other than this one time when a boy with tan skin and matted hair came up to him after a show and told him that his mom used to hit him and he used to think that it was okay. He cried because that boy looked him in the eyes and told him that he had inspired him to pick up a drum stick and it was only then, when he hit the drums and felt the electricity of it all, that he realized that his mother didn’t love him at all. She didn’t hit him like he hit the drums. Her fists didn’t equal love like his drum sticks did. 

Josh cried for hours after meeting that boy. It almost didn’t make sense to Tyler, but there were just some kids that came to them and told them things and truly made them feel something. 

Every kid with a sad story hurt them, but sometimes it just hits hard. Those are the times they truly remember.

But Josh didn’t cry this time. He just looked at Alex with this gut wrenching sadness pouring from every inch of him. He stared, and his fingers twitched, and Alex’s body shook. Then Josh met Tyler’s eyes, looked down at Alex, and made the decision to pull him into a hug.

If at all possible, this made Alex cry even harder.

Tyler just watched, the anguish rolling off of Alex in waves making it impossible for him to do anything but. Watching hurt, but Tyler didn’t know how to do anything else.

-

Everything eventually calmed. Alex wiped at his eyes for a few minutes and then swallowed hard. Josh ran and got him some water while Tyler decided to ask if Alex could share the details of what happened with them.

“I don’t honestly know,” he said. 

He patted gratefully at Josh’s arm when he sat the glass of water on the table in front of them. Tyler glanced at him with a confused look.

“You don’t know?”

“I really don’t. I talked to him for awhile. I just thought he was a bit drunk, maybe had a few cuts on his hands from the broken glass he was slinging everywhere. I never thought when he passed out that he wouldn’t wake up in the morning.” Alex took a long sip of the water, his grip tight on the glass.

“It turns out that he’d taken something. I hadn’t seen the bottle when I was in the bathroom with him, but Zack found it this morning when he went in there. His phone was on the floor, too. I guess he may have dropped it there when he passed out. He had been going to send me a text saying he was sorry – that he hadn’t meant to.”

“Hadn’t meant to do what?” Josh questions.

“I guess take so many of the pills? He’d texted a few other people, too. He told them pretty cryptic things, or so Zack tells me. I didn’t read them.” 

Things are quiet for a few minutes. Then something dawns on Tyler.

“Oh my god,” he says. 

“What?” Josh turns to look at him, almost panicked. 

“I think – oh my god. I think Jack texted me last night.” 

Tyler digs in his pocket until he finds his phone. He’s almost frantic as he goes to his messages, and then he stills.

jack: tyler listen to me for a second okayyy

jack: i reallyreally love your band and your sound and yooouu

jack: so like i am so super sorry that i’ve done this i didnt mean to

jack: i just want to say goodbye and i want to ask you to tell josh bye kay

jack: everyythng is reaally red right now and my lips hurt

jack: but i love you tyguy

jack: buhbyebyebyebyeeebyyee

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Suddenly, the air is really hot.

There is nothing cryptic about that. Maybe if Tyler had read it last night, he would’ve written it off as drunk rambling or something of the sort. But now, now it’s perfectly clear what Jack was saying to him and Tyler just can’t fucking breathe. 

Alex seems almost haunted, but Josh? Josh is murderous. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you look at your fucking phone, Tyler?” he growls. He’s angry in ways that Josh is never angry. Tyler is terrified.

“I didn’t know. I swear that I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?” Josh demands.

“I didn’t know what he was saying. I didn’t. I just read his name and I was tired, so I didn’t look at it. I figured he was drunk or something and that I’d reply after the wedding. I am so sorry, Alex.”

Alex doesn’t say a word. He just stares at Tyler’s phone and wonders why Jack couldn’t have taken that time to text him that instead.

“Don’t fucking speak to him. Fuck, Tyler. Do you realize what this could’ve meant? Do you?”

“I do,” he says miserably. This response does nothing to settle Josh, who gets up and storms from the room.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says. He doesn’t know who he’s speaking to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kellin doesn't understand.

Kellin doesn’t understand why Vic has to be spending so much of his time with Alex.

Well, actually he does understand. He just really doesn’t want to, because it makes him feel like an absolute jerk and he just wants to be upset right now.

He has no right to be. He knows this. It’s just that Jack is gone and usually when Vic is hanging out with Alex, Kellin would be fucking around with him. But Jack being gone is precisely the reason Vic is spending so much time with Alex right now. Kellin really wants to be understanding of that, but the silence where Jack’s voice should be makes his chest ache more than he’d care to admit.

They found out from Alex. Alex called Vic really early in the morning on Saturday and he was crying so loud that all Vic could do was listen helplessly. When he’d finally gotten out what he had called to say, he told Alex that he and Kellin would be in Baltimore by Sunday morning. 

True to his word, they were. Josh and Tyler from Twenty One Pilots were there as well, but Josh was angry and wouldn’t stay in the same room as Tyler. The latter seemed to be depressed by this, but was there and ready to be whatever Alex needed at the moment. 

Kellin didn’t want to get involved, so he showed his face for maybe an hour a day and then retreated to the guest room where he and Vic were staying. His boyfriend, however, stuck by Alex all day and all night, so the room was really just where he was staying.

Alex had nightmares, which was understandable. Kellin thinks if the same had happened to him with Vic, he’d have nightmares too. He gets it, he honestly does. Sometimes he just feels lonely, is all.

It probably makes him a horrible person for feeling the way he does towards Alex – angry and maybe a little jealous – but he just misses Vic. 

Alex lost his best friend. He’s hurting. Kellin understands – he does, honest – but at the same time he just wants Alex to get over it a little quicker than he seems to be.

Which is absolutely awful – kill him, he won’t fight back. He knows he’s an awful, terrible human being. Alex will never get over it. He won’t. He doesn’t have to, no one on earth expects for him to. Kellin’s brain is just cruel and it makes him think and feel horrendous things.

There’s absolutely no way on this earth that Kellin will ever voice these thoughts to Vic. He knows that it’s stupid and quite frankly terrible of him. Instead, he’ll lie on the white sheets and stare at the ceiling for a few hours until he can make his one appearance of the day to get some food and maybe see if Tyler and Josh have made up yet. Then he’ll kiss Vic on the cheek, sit beside of Alex for a little while, and think about the fact that Jack’s funeral was on Wednesday and how truly fucked up that is.

-

By the next Saturday, one week after Jack’s death, Kellin is ready to pull his own hair out.

Vic has spent precisely 15 minutes alone with Kellin, and that was only to make Alex some soup after he’d cried for nearly four hours because Mark called him and – because he’s Mark and has absolutely no brain to mouth filter ever – said something that was too raw too soon. They spent that whole time talking about the emptiness of Alex’s eyes and how sometimes Alex cried with dry eyes and ripped his jeans with his fingernails. Nothing about them – which wasn’t a surprise to Kellin, honestly. It was all Alex and his pain. 

Kellin loves Alex. He does, honest. He loves him like a brother and would probably die for him if he needed him to. For some reason, though, he finds himself feeling almost resentful towards Alex. He finds himself feeling angry. Bitter. 

It’s probably nothing. Kellin tells himself this as he locks the door to the room he and Vic had been meant to share. It’ll pass by. He won’t hurt Alex.

-

Kellin wakes up alone on Tuesday and that’s when everything goes south. 

He repeats to himself over and over again that he can’t – won’t – hurt Alex. He repeats it as he brushes his teeth and makes his gums bleed with the amount pressure that he uses. He repeats it as he nearly breaks the handle on the cabinet door while trying to put the toothpaste away. He repeats it as he hears muffled arguing from the next room – Tyler and Josh – and he repeats it one more time when he ventures downstairs and sees Vic and Alex watching TV in the living room.

Then he stops repeating it and starts screaming instead.

It starts just in his head, but then he’s full blown screaming out loud. No words, just angry sound ripping at his vocal cords and causing Vic and Alex to jump where they sit.

He wants to feel guilty when he sees Alex’s wide eyes looking at him the way that they are. He wants to feel something other than pent up aggression when he notices the dark circles under his red eyes and sees the way his hands shake with every breath he barely takes. He wants to stop, to feel some kind of remorse, but instead he just keeps screaming and eventually the unintelligible sounds turn into a word.

Jack.

He’s screaming Jack’s name and his knees are weak. His eyes are wet, stinging as he shuts them tightly and brings his hands to cover his ears. He’s on the ground and sobbing instead of shouting before anyone can even decipher the name spilling past his lips.

Oh, but when they do it’s a whole new brand of chaos. Alex chokes and curls in on himself. Tyler, who had raced down at the sound of Kellin’s yells, starts trembling. Vic’s eyes go from distraught and concerned, to almost agonized. His expression twists and if Kellin could see him, he’d see the realization written across his face. He’d know then that Vic finally understood what Kellin didn’t know how to voice.

“Oh, Kellin,” Vic murmurs.

All Kellin can do is cry now that he’s started. Noises seem to be ripped from his throat as he sobs, nearly screaming again with how loud and rough it all is. His ribs hurt and his chest aches. 

That’s when he starts babbling. The pain brings a new kind of clarity to his mind and he starts talking a mile a minute. He talks about nothing but Jack. JackJackJack.

He can hear Alex getting choked up as he speaks, but he just keeps talking. He talks about Jack’s hands and how he’d bite his thumb when he got really into a cut scene on a video game. He talks about the way he’d hold bottles and how, when he was drunk, he’d sprawl out on the floor at Kellin’s feet and mumble about how Alex would sit in the floor when he was working on the bridge of a song – just the bridge and no other part. He talks about how Jack was always around when Vic was with Alex and how now he wasn’t anymore. He talks about the silence and the lack of alcohol and how there’s a shirt hanging on the mirror in the room he’s sleeping in that smells like Jack’s cologne. He talks about how much it hurts to miss someone he never got to say goodbye to.

Alex is out of the room before Kellin stops talking. The only reason he stops is because his throat hurts and he’s rubbed his eyes raw. When he looks at the doorway, he notices that Tyler has left, too.

“I’m so sorry, Kellin,” Vic says. It’s enough.

“Yeah,” Kellin says with a note of exhaustion. “Yeah, me too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan doesn't know why he's at Brendon's house on Saturday morning.

Ryan doesn’t know why he’s at Brendon’s house on Saturday morning, but he is. He’s there and he’s making pancakes when he hears a loud bang come from upstairs. 

He doesn’t waste any time in telling Spencer to watch the pancakes before he’s up the stairs and in Brendon’s room, staring blankly at the sight in front of him. 

Brendon is standing in the middle of the room, face ashen and horrified. His phone is on the floor and so is his hairbrush. It’s only a second before Ryan sees the way that Brendon’s legs are trembling and forces him to sit on the bed.

“What’s wrong, Bren?” 

All he gets is that same horrified stare Brendon had been giving his phone. It’s completely empty and bottomless. His lips tremble and his face remains an ash white, but after a moment his mouth opens just the least bit and he whispers something he seems hesitant to believe.

“Jack is gone.”

There’s definite denial there. It’s written plainly all over his face. Brendon doesn’t believe – doesn’t want to – what he just said. He doesn’t know how to believe it. 

Ryan hates to ask but, “Jack?”

“Jack Barakat. Jack Barakat is dead, Ry. He’s gone. I don’t-“

“How do you know? What happened, Bren?” Ryan absolutely doesn’t want to push. He doesn’t. He just feels like it’s important that he knows what happened and how Brendon has come to this awful conclusion that it’s clear he doesn’t want to believe. 

Brendon brings his legs up onto the bed and circles his arms around his knees. He pushes his face in the space there while he answers.

“Josh called me just then. He said that Zack had just called him and told him that Jack was gone. He committed suicide, Ry.” Brendon’s voice breaks and his grip around his knees becomes tighter. It breaks Ryan’s heart into pieces.

“Bren,” Ryan whispers, “oh, baby.” 

“He can’t be gone, Ry. He can’t. We were supposed to go partying next weekend and I was going to play him a new song I’ve been working on. He was supposed to get too drunk and sing Alex’s praises to me – tell me how Alex’s hair was always so soft and that his voice was crafted by the gods and sappy shit that Jack only ever says when he’s drunk and Alex isn’t around. I was supposed to make him brownies and Jon was supposed to spike them and it was supposed to be fun, fun because Jack deserves to come out here and forget that Alex thinks he’s in love with Lisa. He was supposed to be here, Ryan.” 

There’s nothing that Ryan can say to make this better. He knows this. Anything he says doesn’t count because he doesn’t – didn’t – know Jack. He’d heard stories, sure. Jack Barakat was a legend – he drank ten beers in five minutes at one of Pete’s house parties and had sex with William Beckett one night in Las Vegas and lived to tell the tale. 

He dyed Pete’s hair pink and got Brendon to wear a wedding dress and high heels into a Wal-Mart and then they stole a shopping cart and took it for a joyride through the streets at 4 in the morning. 

He and Josh Dun once took Tyler Joseph on a haunted roller coaster and somehow managed to both get off and leave him on there for an hour. 

He found Gerard on the side of the road when the My Chem guys had thought they’d never see him again and somehow managed to get him to agree to talk to someone. 

Jack Barakat had done it all. Ryan just never got the chance to know him.

So, instead of saying something that wouldn’t count for anything, Ryan just wraps his arms around Brendon and lets him fall apart.

While he does, he tries not to think about Sarah. He tries not to think about what this means for her and Brendon, or how it’s going to look if she walks in now when she’s already so angry with them both. He tries so hard to forget that he had ever left Brendon in this moment, because it feels so much like before it all went bad. 

Taking care of Brendon has always been so easy for Ryan. Slipping into that familiar pattern of returning Brendon’s broken parts to their rightful places was almost as simple as breathing. There wasn’t any way he could’ve stopped himself if he had tried.

“Ryan,” Brendon mumbles.

“Bren?” Ryan brushes the hair from Brendon’s bloodshot eyes, smiling softly as he strokes his thumb over his damp cheeks.

“I’m gonna miss him so much.”

Ryan bites the inside of his cheek and forces a small tilt to his lips. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I hope he’s okay now. Do you think he’s okay?” 

Brendon’s eyes are so wide when he asks that. He looks so hopeful, like Ryan’s answer is going to be the definite truth just because it’s Ryan. He looks at him with so much trust and helplessness that there’s nothing Ryan can do but nod his head and hope that he looks sure of himself when he does.

He must, because Brendon looks satisfied when he turns his head back into Ryan’s shoulder.

“I love you, Ry,” Brendon says quietly.

“I love you, too, Bren,” Ryan replies. He blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes and swallows hard. 

It’s okay. They’re okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer doesn't approve.

Spencer had never approved of having Ryan and Jon come to his and Brendon’s house in LA. He didn’t approve of it when it first happened a year ago and he still doesn’t approve now, when all of the damage has already been done. 

He loves them. He’s known Ryan since they were just kids eating glue and Ryan was scaring the other 4 year olds with his bruises and dark attire. He’s loved Jon since he slipped them all weed and played Sins on the banjo. He loves them, but loving them has nothing to do with this being okay.

No matter how much he loves them, he loves Brendon more.

There was a time where this wasn’t true. Spencer used to put Ryan before everyone else in existence, but then Ryan left and took Jon with him. During that time, when the skies had never seemed so dark and the air had never tasted so bitter, they learned how to piece each other back together. They learned how their broken parts fit together to make one whole person, because that’s what they were. One person. Two halves of a whole. 

He knows Brendon inside and out. He knows what Brendon thinks about when he can’t sleep at night and relies on the alcohol to get him through the next day. He knows what Brendon’s mouth tastes like when he’s been crying. He knows what shade of purple his thighs are littered with when he gets so mad at himself that he can hardly think. He knows Brendon and how he leaves hidden messages in his lyrics and how fucking broken he always, always was. 

He knows him. He loves him. He loves Ryan and he loves Jon, both in different ways, but not as much as he loves Brendon. He could never love them as much as he loves him now. Not after what they did to him, to them. Not after they left them all alone with only each other to lean on.

That’s why he thinks that this is such a bad idea. They’ve been down this road before and if not for Brendon, Spencer is scared for himself. He’s terrified that Jon will look at him with his too bright eyes and steady hands and make him fall in love all over again. He’s scared that Jon will leave him behind for the second time and he’s not so sure that if he does he’ll be able to survive this one.

And Brendon? Oh, Brendon. He’d be gone before Spencer could even read the goodbye note. 

Spencer tries not to think about what Brendon leaving would do to Sarah. She’s already so angry, so hurt by the entire situation. By now he’s not sure if she’d even really feel anything at all. Isn’t that so sad? That Brendon could be so in love with Ryan that his love for Sarah could just disappear? Isn’t it the saddest thing that it’s to the point now where Spencer isn’t even sure that she would be able to feel anything at all for the loss of Brendon, because she’s pretty much lost him already? 

There’s just so much wrong with everything going on. Brendon and Sarah hadn’t been together for awhile now. They’d decided they wanted to take a break because Brendon was in such a dark place and Sarah needed something from him that he couldn’t give to her. For awhile there, Spencer really thought that Dallon and Brendon were going to have something. But then Ryan called one day and Jon was there and they wanted to come home. Home, they said, like it was something they had a right to now. Spencer had grabbed the phone from Brendon at the time, and he told them to go to hell. They called back the next day and Spencer never heard anything else about how pretty Dallon’s eyes were and how his hands were so soft and fit Brendon’s just perfectly. 

(Ryan’s eyes were always Brendon’s favorite feature and he could talk for hours about how Ryan’s fingers were just so slim and fit so well between his. Spencer ignores this.)

No matter what, no one would listen to Spencer about how wrong this all was. Soon he just stopped saying it. Brendon’s eyes were always so happy when Ryan would come around and he’d smile so widely that it would make Spencer’s head spin. Jon would always pull at his sleeve and point to them when Spencer wasn’t paying attention, and the sight of them so happy made Spencer forget for a minute that he even had any complaints at all. And then Jon would kiss his cheek and whisper something so very low into his skin and he’d forget the outside world existed. 

That didn’t mean that he approved, though. He didn’t. Something was eventually going to go even more wrong than it already has and the world would know that Spencer Smith is smarter than he looks.

And he was.

-

“Tyler?” 

There’s muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. Jon is looking at Spencer with concern written all over his face. The only explanation he can give is a shrug.

“C-can I talk t-to Br-Bren-Brendon, pl-please?” Tyler stutters. He gasps and cries harder after he gets his words out. There’s quiet shuffling on the other end, something like a bed squeaking, and Spencer assumes Tyler has sat down.

Spencer points towards the stairs and mouths Brendon’s name to Jon. 

“I’ll see if I can get him, okay, Ty?” Spencer says softly.

“O-Okay.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

Tyler gulps, “J-Jack. He’s go-gone and it’s all m-my fault.”

“Jack? Jack Barakat? Where’d he go and why do you think it’s your fault?” Spencer asks.

“H-he’s d-dead, Spence. H-he texted m-me an-and I didn’t an-answer and now he’s dead.”

Spencer can’t process a thing he’s just heard, but he sees Jon coming down the stairs shaking his head with a tortured look on his face.

“Ty,” he says, “Brendon can’t come to the phone right now. Something tells me he already knows about Jack.”

“H-how? He can’t,” Tyler pauses. “Zack,” he says after a moment, “I bet Zack told him.”

“It isn’t your fault, though, Tyler,” Spencer says. “Sometimes people leave us and we blame ourselves because we loved them so much that there just had to have been something we could’ve done, but the truth is that we couldn’t have done anything at all. And that is not our faults.”

“But Josh says that it is,” he replies.

“Josh? Josh said that?” Spencer is shocked, to say the least.

“He was so angry at me, Spencer. He said that I could’ve done something. I could’ve, too. He texted me goodbye and I didn’t look at it and if I had, I could’ve saved him. I could’ve, Spence, I really could’ve.” Tyler sounds so hopeless and sad that it breaks Spencer’s heart to listen to him speak. He just wants to take him in his arms and swear to him that there is nothing in this world that he could’ve done to save Jack, and then he wants to punch Joshua Dun in the face.

“Tyler. Tyler, I want you to listen to me and really hear me, okay? There is not a thing on this earth that you could have done to save Jack. Yes, he may have texted you. Yes, maybe if you had looked at it you might’ve realized something was wrong. But that would not have saved him. It’s not your fault that he’s gone and it’s not your fault that you didn’t realize his texts were important. You are not in the wrong and don’t you dare let Josh tell you any differently.”

Spencer is angry. He’s not sure if he’s angry at Josh or if he’s just angry at the world, but he knows that he’s angry and he knows that it hurts. 

“And another thing, don’t take Josh seriously right now, okay? He’s probably just upset and taking it out on you, kind of like I am with the imagery going on in my head directed towards him. But he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. He’s hurt, just like you’re hurt. It’ll all work out just fine.” He sees Jon smiling at him from where he’s sat on the opposite couch. He forces a grin back, but only because he can feel the sadness building somewhere behind his eyes and in the middle of his throat.

“I- Thank you, Spencer,” Tyler says. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what else to say.”

“That’s enough for me,” Spencer replies. His throat is tight.

“I’m going to go talk to Josh.”

“Good, Ty,” Spencer says. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I will. Goodbye, Spence.”

“Goodbye, Tyler,” Spencer says, and then he hangs up the phone with a sigh.

He looks up at Jon, tries to smile, and that’s when he starts crying.

-

“Is he okay?” Jon asks. It’s twenty minutes later and Spencer has just managed to calm himself down. Jon doesn’t ask about him, if he’s okay, and it almost makes Spencer sad again when he thinks about how well Jon knows him.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, “yeah, I think so.”

“I’m really sorry about Jack,” Jon says, and it sounds like he actually means it.

“I am, too,” Spencer replies. 

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes, and then Spencer asks about Brendon.

“Is he alright? Do I need to go up there?”

Jon laughs a bit and then says, “Nah, I think Ryan’s got this one under control.”

Spencer doesn’t ask, simply because he fears he’ll say something that he really shouldn’t.

This, when they lapse into a somewhat comfortable silence, is when Dallon walks in with the worst look on his face that Spencer has ever seen on another human being. 

“What the fuck is Ryan Ross doing upstairs with Brendon?” he demands, face red and arms crossed. He doesn’t look at Jon, which Spencer isn’t sure what to do with.

“Well, hello to you too, Ryan’s replacement,” Jon says with a sarcastic smirk. Spencer goes completely white.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard didn't expect it.

Gerard didn’t expect to be told about Jack Barakat’s death when he woke up on Saturday morning. He didn’t expect to hear that it was suicide and that no one even knew until he didn’t wake up. 

But he did hear about it and he did spend a long time just staring down at his cereal until it was no longer edible. He sat and he thought about what this would mean and how now, everything was going to change. No one would come out the same after this.

It took him some time to process the new information and it took even longer to accept the reality of it, but eventually he worked up the courage to go and tell Frank.

He had no reaction. He looked up at Gerard blankly from their bed, blinking every few seconds as if that would somehow erase him from existence. He didn’t move, didn’t open his mouth as if to speak. He just sat and he stared. Gerard almost thought he could see the inner workings of Frank’s brain screeching to a stop.

He sat on the bed next to him after a few minutes, deciding to call Mikey to tell him if no one else had.

“Gerard? What’s up?” Mikey asks. He sounds groggy, like he hasn’t been up for very long. 

“Hey, Mikes. I was just, uh, wondering if you’ve heard about Jack yet?” It’s an awkward thing to say, and Gerard can feel some sort of lump growing in his throat, but he couldn’t think of another way to word it.

“No? Jack Barakat?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard answers, the lump growing even more so.

“What, has he gotten himself arrested or something? Hospitalized again because of one of Brendon’s parties? Or has he like, quit the band and caused a mass panic for some kind of prank?” Mikey asks, laughing a bit to himself. Gerard remains silent, unable to speak for some reason.

“Just tell me, Gee. I’m all out of guesses.”

“He’s – uh. He’s dead, Mikey.” 

It’s almost like the entire world is holding its breath for just a couple of seconds there, with how silent it becomes.

“What.” It’s not even a question. Mikey’s voice is flat, empty except for a note of slight denial hidden somewhere under the surface.

“He committed suicide last night. No one found out until this morning. He overdosed after hearing about Alex and Lisa’s engagement.” 

“I – who knows? Who did you hear it from?” 

“I’m not sure who knows, but Zack called me and told me. He mentioned telling Josh Dun, but that’s all that I know.”

“Which Zack?” Mikey asks.

“Merrick,” Gerard replies. 

“This is just – it’s insane. I don’t know how to process this.”

“I didn’t either,” Gerard says, “I spent nearly an hour staring at a bowl of cereal just trying to rationalize everything.” 

Frank glances over at him, and there’s a frown on his face. His hands are shaking and his eyes are blank, like everything has been erased from his brain. Gerard rushes to tell Mikey goodbye as he grabs one of Frank’s hands in his own.

“I’ve got to go, Mikes. I’ll call you later, okay? Goodbye.”

“Are you alright, Frankie?” Gerard asks worriedly, sitting his phone somewhere beside of him.

Frank shakes his head a little, gripping Gerard’s hand. 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Hold me?” Frank asks quietly. 

“Of course, darling,” Gerard murmurs, opening his arms for Frank to crawl into. He slips one of his hands under Frank’s shirt and rubs his side soothingly. 

He should’ve anticipated this. He should’ve known that Frank wouldn’t know how to handle the knowledge of Jack’s death, especially with how sudden it all is. Frank, for all his gory tendencies, had never handled death of any kind well. The subject gave him nightmares sometimes, and he’d wake up screaming and clawing at the bed sheets. The thought of dying haunted Frank like nothing else did, especially after all of the times where Frank didn’t know if Gerard would still be alive in the morning when he woke up. He felt guilty over that for the longest time, but Frank just pats his cheek when he tries to say anything and tells him that it’s okay, they’re okay now. 

They are. Gerard is healthier now than he’s ever been and Frank no longer sits awake at night, waiting for Gerard to come home even though he knows that he most likely won’t show up until the morning. They’re okay. But Frank is still terrified and Gerard is still guilty and it all still hurts.

He attempts to forget that right now, though. Instead, he hums some song he isn’t really sure that he fully knows and listens to his breathing even out as his heartbeat slows to a steady rhythm. 

“We’re okay,” he whispers. He’s not sure who he’s talking to or what he’s really talking about, but he knows that it’s true. They’re okay. It’s okay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon is alone.

Dallon is alone when he hears about Jack Barakat’s suicide. He’s in his car and the radio is playing – something smooth and almost soft, but loud enough to make the speakers thump. He finds out through text, one sent from Rian Dawson to him and about six other people. 

His first thought is Brendon, which makes him feel bad. He knows that Brendon has to be hurting, though. He was Jack’s friend. He loves Jack. 

He thinks about Alex, too. It’s nearly an afterthought, but he thinks about him and how he would feel in a situation like this one. It just makes him feel even worse, so he tries to block that thought out. 

He does wonder, though, would he be the Jack or the Alex? Would he end up dead or alive?

Brendon has broken his heart many times, but he lived through the Sarah and Brendon engagement fiasco. He lived through Brendon’s mixed feelings for Sarah and Spencer. He survived learning about Ryan Ross and why Brendon would never fully love anyone who wasn’t him. He’s lived and fought and – that makes him an Alex, right?

The thought makes him ache. He can’t stomach the image of Brendon, broken and lifeless. He’s seen him at some of his worst moments, but dead? No, Dallon wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Alex is strong. That’s something that Dallon knows with all of his heart. Alex is stronger than Dallon could ever hope to be.

With this in mind, Dallon sets off towards Brendon and Spencer’s house. Alex may be strong, but Brendon won’t be.

-

When he gets there, the door is unlocked and there’s a car in the driveway that Dallon doesn’t recognize. He walks in and goes ahead upstairs towards Brendon’s room, Spencer’s voice echoing somewhere behind him.

What he sees when he gets to the door makes him feel slightly ill. 

There, on the bed, is Ryan Fucking Ross. He’s got Brendon in his arms and they appear to be asleep. Brendon’s phone is on the floor, still lit up.

The sight makes Dallon so angry that he can’t breathe. Ryan Ross has caused Brendon more pain than anyone else ever has, so why is he laying in Brendon’s bed? Why is Ryan holding Brendon like that? Why isn’t that Dallon instead?

Dallon storms down the stairs and towards the living room. He stops in front of Spencer, who is looking at him with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is Ryan Ross doing upstairs with Brendon?” he demands. He crosses his arms and stares right into Spencer’s eyes. 

“Well, hello to you too, Ryan’s replacement,” says a voice from behind Spencer. 

Dallon’s eyes snap to him, and his face hardens.

“Jon Walker, I’m guessing?” He directs his question towards Spencer, who has faded to a sickly shade of white. 

“I can explain,” Spencer says.

“Oh, sure you can. You can totally explain to me why Ryan Ross, the one person that has damaged Brendon beyond repair, is now in his bed with him. You can explain to me why Jon Walker is standing behind you. You can explain why all of this is happening right now when it was supposed to have ended in 2009.”

There’s a silence. Jon Walker’s mouth is set into a thin line and he’s glaring at Dallon, looking for all of the world like he hates him – as if he has the right to.

“Spencer doesn’t have to explain anything to you,” Jon says, stepping forward until he’s at Spencer’s side. He crosses his own arms and raises an eyebrow at Dallon, challenging him.

“I’ll just go wake Brendon up and ask him, then,” Dallon says with a smirk, making to turn around and walk back to Brendon’s room where he and Ryan are.

Spencer grabs his arm and forces him to turn back to face him, a fiery look in his eyes.

“You will do no such fucking thing, Dallon Weekes,” Spencer growls, keeping a hold on Dallon’s arm as if daring him to even try and go wake Brendon up.

“He just found out that Jack is fucking dead, so I swear to god if you try and wake him up right now I will rip your god damn throat out.” Spencer is absolutely livid. Dallon can see a lost fight, and he had never actually intended to wake Brendon up, so he shakes off Spencer’s hand on his arm and nods. 

“That’s the reason I’m here,” Dallon says. “Rian Dawson texted me and told me about Jack. I thought Brendon might need someone, so I came here.”

Spencer sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks defeated, and it makes Dallon feel awful. He was angry about Ryan and Jon, but now it seems to have seeped out of him. He’s exhausted and he’s obviously made Spencer feel the same way. 

“Listen, Dallon,” Spencer begins, “I’m sorry you weren’t told about this. If I’m being honest, I’ve disapproved of this entire situation since it started, but he makes Brendon happy. For so long, that’s all that I’ve wanted. Brendon deserves happiness, you know? He deserves the world and if Ryan Ross is that world, then I’m prepared to tie him down and keep him with Brendon forever. I’d do anything for him, and I suspect you would too. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you wouldn’t, would we?”

“If Brendon asked me to give him the moon, I wouldn’t stop until I found a way,” Dallon responds. It’s effortless. 

Jon speaks up, “This is how you can.”

This, for some reason, makes Spencer start laughing. It’s both joyous and manic.

“When the moon fell in love with the sun,” Jon sings, “all was golden in the sky. All was golden when the day met the night.”

“What?” Dallon asks. It’s clear that he’s missing something, but he’s not really sure what it is. 

It all starts falling into place, though. He’s not really certain how, but it does.

Images flash in his head. He can hear Brendon’s voice, how tired and broken it sounds as he sings, “but melt your headaches, call it ho – god, I’m sorry.”

“Hey moon, please forget to fall down. Hey moon, don’t you go down,” he mumbles to himself. He feels sick.

“Just,” Spencer starts as he calms down, “keep that in mind, alright? You would do anything for him, give him anything. This is the time for that. I know that you love him, and you know that so do I, but something I’ve accepted that you haven’t is that no one will ever love him more than Ryan Ross does. He will never love anyone like he loves Ryan, either. They were made for each other and there isn’t a thing anyone can do to pull them apart unless they try to do it themselves.”

“And we see how well that’s worked out,” Dallon says. Spencer grins.

“Yes, yes we have.”

“Just, tell him that I stopped by, okay? And that I’m just a phone call away if he needs me?” 

Spencer smiles at him and nods. “Of course.”

“Hey, Dallon?” Jon asks. 

Dallon turns from where he was set to leave, “Yeah?”

“You’re a good man,” is all Jon says. 

Dallon nods and turns again, walking away from the room and eventually away from the house. About an hour later he gets a message.

Brendon: I heard that you came by earlier. Would you want to come and get a drink with Ryan and I?

Dallon: There’s nothing I’d like more


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick knows that Pete knows.

Patrick realizes that Pete knows when he knocks on his front door and he doesn’t answer after 15 minutes. It’s Sunday morning and late last night he’d gotten a call from Brendon telling him that Jack Barakat had died that morning. He didn’t think much of coming here, because Brendon told him that he hadn’t told Pete. He didn’t realize that someone else could’ve told Pete instead.

They must have, though. Pete has only ever left Patrick standing outside for ten minutes, never fifteen. Something is wrong.

Patrick tries not to use it often, but he unlocks the door with the key that Pete gave him.

Everything is still when he walks in, and that’s something that automatically scares Patrick. Nothing about Pete is ever still, not even his house. There’s always something happening, something moving or making noise or just simply being.

But everything is still and silent, dark where there should be light. It feels almost despondent, in a way. Like all of the hope has been sucked out of it.

He walks around and everything is still the way it’s always been, but it feels different. It all feels very grey, even though nothing in the entire house is that color. There’s something about the lack of noise and motion that takes away everything Pete about the house. Now it just feels like a coffin.

This, Patrick realizes, is entirely possible. He stops in his tracks.

He’s upstairs in record time and the door to the bathroom has light shining under it. Patrick tries to open it, and that’s when there’s noise. 

Despite the situation, Patrick’s entire body goes warm. He hadn’t noticed that he was cold before this.

“Pete?” he calls. 

“Go away.”

Something drops from inside the bathroom. It sounds suspiciously like a bottle of pills.

“Pete, I swear to god that I will kill you myself if that was what I’m thinking it was.”

The door clicks and Patrick pushes it open instantly.

Pete is picking up white pills and placing them back inside of an orange bottle. There are drops of red in the sink, but when he looks at Pete he sees that his lip is bleeding and writes it off for now. It smells like alcohol, but Patrick sees no evidence of it. 

He drops to the ground and helps Pete collect the rest of the pills. He only notices Pete’s shaking then.

“Babe?” he questions, turning towards him. Pete is pale and he’s breathing harshly, bloodshot eyes unfocused and teary. Patrick takes the bottle out of Pete’s hand and pulls him towards him a bit.

“Pete, it’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe for me?” Pete shakes his head, breathing becoming even more frantic. Patrick can practically see his pulse.

“Do you know where we are?” 

Pete nods.

“Okay. Listen to my voice, alright? Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart, I promise. You’re fine. You didn’t take the pills. I’m right here and we’re in your house, all by ourselves. It’s a Sunday and we’re heading to Baltimore tomorrow afternoon, yeah? To see Alex?” Patrick tries to go for soothing, but he apparently says the wrong thing because when he mentions Baltimore, Pete starts crying. 

“He’s gone, Patrick,” Pete cries. “He’s gone.”

“I know,” Patrick says, “I know.”

“I – I could’ve done something.” 

It’s such a Pete thing to say. I could’ve done something. I could’ve said more. I could’ve played better. I could’ve, I could’ve, I could’ve.

But he couldn’t have. 

“No,” Patrick says sadly, “you couldn’t have. There is not a thing that you could’ve done to save him, because if there had been then Alex would’ve done it.”

“But –“ Pete starts, and Patrick notices that his breathing is slowing as he focuses more on arguing than what he’s talking about.

“But nothing – there isn’t anything that could’ve been done and you know that. Please, don’t blame yourself for this. I think Alex is doing that enough for all of us.” 

Pete nods and bites his lip, wincing as he does. 

“Hey, stop that,” Patrick scolds, gently grabbing Pete’s face and running his thumb over Pete’s bottom lip as he stops biting it. 

“I really wish you wouldn’t hurt yourself,” Patrick mumbles, staring at the blood smeared on his thumb. 

Pete doesn’t say a word, just hangs his head as if he’s ashamed of himself.

“Talk to me,” Patrick pleads. 

“Why?”

Patrick stares at Pete for a long moment. He isn’t sure, but his heartbreak might be visible on his face. 

“Why?” Patrick asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you just ask me why I want you to talk to me? Jesus, Pete. I love you. I’m worried about you. I want to talk to you so I can help you, maybe try and somehow make the pain more bearable. It kills me to watch you like this, knowing that you’re breaking and there’s no way for me to just take it away. And you ask me why?”

Patrick shifts onto his knees and grabs Pete’s face, staring directly into his eyes. 

“Pete, I have loved you for a very long time. I know by now that you always blame yourself and you never, ever think you’ve done enough. I know that you love with all of yourself and have the biggest heart, but that you’re also selective and you can be an asshole. I know that you doubt everything, even the people you’re closest to. But, don’t you ever question my love for you. Don’t take my love and turn it into an insecurity that would lead you to ask me why I want you to talk to me, to communicate how you’re feeling with me. I have loved you too fiercely and for far too long for you to doubt me now.”

He leans forward and kisses him. Pete grasps at his arms and kisses back.

“I love you,” Pete whispers, “and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Patrick responds. “It’s okay.”

-

A few hours later, when they’ve cleaned up and are now on the couch in the living room, Pete turns to Patrick with worried eyes.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” he asks.

“Who? You and me?” 

Pete shakes his head. “No, I mean us. As in, the industry, the bands. Our friends. Do you think we’ll come back from this?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, and he’s being completely honest. “Eventually, I think we’ll come back stronger than ever. There isn’t a way that we couldn’t.”

“Good. I think Jack would want us to.”

Pete burrows into Patrick’s arms and squeezes his hand. Patrick loves him so much.

“Yeah, I think he would, too.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael: I'm so fucking sorry, Jack

Michael: Jack

Michael: I really miss you, buddy

Michael: listen, I know we haven’t really known each other for all that long

Michael: but your band, it really got me through some shit

Michael: and I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you through shit

Michael: I’m so fucking sorry, jack

Michael: I love you, brother

Michael: I just wish you’d come back, ya know

Michael: I don’t think id even really be mad 

Michael: maybe for a second

Michael: but you’d be alive, man

Michael: and I would get over it because 

Michael: it wouldn’t matter

Michael: you’ve really done a number on alex

Michael: the funeral was awful and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to cry again

Michael: holly was there and I thought alex might just kill her

Michael: so was lisa

Michael: but tyler took care of her

Michael: it was awful and beautiful and tragic and fuck

Michael: I miss you

Michael: we all miss you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there might be some bonus chapters later


End file.
